Regency Masquerade

Chapter Thirteen

Hartly had seen that dumb, animal response to danger in Spain. The frozen faces of the enemy at bay still haunted his dreams. That was Lady Crieff's reaction when he caught her in his room. But it was the look in her eyes that bothered him more. It was the same fear and loathing he had seen when she looked at Stanby. He felt like a murderer.

"Well?” he said gruffly. “Nothing to say, madam? You mistook my room for yours, perhaps? You were passing and heard a noise? Fearing a robber, you came to investigate. Come now, use that vivid imagination."

She swallowed; her tongue flicked out and touched her dry lips. “It was the door-it was open,” she said. She still held the note in her fingers, hidden behind her back. She wanted to position herself over the dustbin and drop it in.

"Ah, you have elected for excuse number two."

Jonathon came to her defense. “The door was open!” he said angrily. “We knew you were out walking and feared someone might steal your-your diamond tiepin."

"And did someone?” he asked.

"No! You can look for yourself. It is still on your dresser."

Hartly's eyes flickered to the dresser, where his diamond cravat pin twinkled in the sunlight. Well, at least they had not robbed him. Lady Crieff's position at the desk told him what they had been looking for. So they had read the note he left for them. Excellent! Success mellowed his mood. He would let them off lightly, but not too lightly, or they would suspect his motives.

Jonathon's spunky behavior gave Moira courage. She shifted position and dropped the note into the dustbin. Once free of the incriminating evidence, she lifted her head high and said haughtily, “I hope you are not accusing us of trying to rob you, Mr. Hartly, when we were only being neighborly. The door was open, I assure you. Anyone might have come in. You can ask Sally."

"You must forgive me,” he said, in a more civil tone. “I was surprised when I returned and heard voices in my room, especially after Ponsonby's questionable behavior last night. I decided to enter via Mott's room to catch the intruder. It was careless of Sally to leave the door open. I shall speak to her."

"I wish you will be easy with her,” Jonathon said. “It was my fault in a way. I asked her for a posset for Lady Crieff just as she was coming out of your room. I daresay that was what made her forget."

"No harm done."

"We thought you were going for a long walk, you see,” Jonathon mentioned.

"So I was, but I remembered I had accepted an invitation to dinner in London on the weekend, and returned to write my apologies to the hostess."

"We shall let you get on with it,” Moira said, for she was eager to escape. “I am sorry if we startled you."

"Please do not apologize. I ought to thank you for looking out for my welfare."

He accompanied them to the door and watched as they scuttled off to their rooms as if the hounds of hell were after them. As soon as they disappeared, he went to his dustbin and glanced down at the note. It had been opened and obviously read. He strolled to the window and waited to see which of them darted the note's contents off to Marchbank. Within two minutes David ran to the stable and came out, leading Firefly. His simple plan had succeeded. Marchbank would believe his men were being watched and would desist operations for a few nights.

In her room, Moira was trembling from the aftermath of her ordeal. She saw that future relations with Mr. Hartly would be strained and unpleasant, which was a great pity, because in the worst case, she had thought she could apply to him for leniency on Cousin John's behalf. Quite apart from that, she did care for his good opinion. What must he think of her?

She was so upset that she remained in her room the rest of the morning. Jonathon was soon back from Cove House.

"I gave Cousin Vera the message. Marchbank was out on business, but she will tell him. She says he can divert any incoming cargo to Cousin Peter's men at Romney. They have a system of warning lights flashed from shore to the approaching ships. I am to keep watch on Hartly,” he said, his chest swelling at such an important duty.

"You did well, Jon. Do you think Hartly believed us?"

"No, he thinks we are common thieves. You could see it in his eyes, but as his precious diamond pin was still there, he could not say much. I doubt he will offer me a ride in his curricle again,” he added disconsolately.

"Never mind, you can set up your own curricle when we recover our money. That is the main thing. We must not lose track of that with Cousin John's problem."

"Can I really? With a pair of matched grays like Hartly's? And a yellow rig with silver appointments?"

"Why not? You have earned it."

Moira found her own good advice hard to take. It was difficult to concentrate on Lionel March. She kept remembering the cold way Mr. Hartly had looked at her. She could not face the Great Room for lunch. She kept brooding over Mr. Hartly. She had a cold collation brought to the sitting room, where she and Jonathon shared a quiet luncheon. After lunch, Jonathon planned to watch Hartly and follow him at a discreet distance if he left the inn. He also spoke of taking another run down to Cove House, to see if he could be of any help to Cousin John.

Moira had to take herself by the scruff of the neck and force herself to go belowstairs, where she knew Major Stanby would look for her. She felt the time was ripe to try to sell him the jewels. The settee was empty when she entered the Great Room. The servants had cleared away the traces of lunch. The only person in the room was an elderly gentleman, a traveler, reading a magazine at one of the tables while he sipped coffee.

Moira picked up a journal and sat staring at it with unseeing eyes. Within a quarter of an hour, she heard the firm tread of Lionel March, and her spine stiffened. She forced a smile of welcome when he came bowing and scraping forward.

"I was concerned when you did not come down for luncheon, Lady Crieff,” he said, lifting his coattails and sitting closer to her than she liked. “I hope the headache is not worse?"

The major had made a dashing run to Dover, where he had spent an hour at the newspaper office, looking into the history of Lady Crieff. He was now in full possession of all the details, including the value of the Crieff collection.

"Truth to tell, Major, it was something else that was bothering me. The jeweler from London should be here by now. I begin to wonder if he has changed his mind, after having me come all this way to meet him. I don't know what I shall do if he does not come."

"Have you thought over my offer?"

She gave a small, trusting smile. “You are so kind, but truly I could not let the jewels out of my possession for only five thousand pounds. They are worth twenty times that. Who is to say you would not be robbed on your way to Paris? I shall just take them to London and try my luck there."

"If you mistrust me-and you are quite right to mistrust a stranger's ingenuity, if not his honesty-you could come to France with me,” he said.

She gave a gasp of alarm. “Major Stanby! I could not travel about with a gentleman! What would people think?"

"You misunderstand me, my dear. I meant you could hire a chaperon and accompany me. In that manner, you would see I do not plan to run off with your fortune.” He gave a disparaging laugh at such an idea. “Have you ever been to Paris?"

"No, I have never even been to London."

"You were made for Paris, and Paris for you. It is delightful."

She had to talk this idea away and said, “I do not speak French. I would not be comfortable there. I would prefer to deal with an honest Englishman."

Stanby shook his head doubtfully. “I do not wish to add to your troubles, my dear, but if the jeweler has not come, there must be a reason for it. It is very difficult to sell jewels of-how shall I put it-doubtful origin. Jewels that the law might say are stolen, even though they are yours by rights."

"But that is why I was willing to sell them for half their value. I am aware that they would be difficult to sell in the short term. Eventually the talk will die down. I shall write to Mr. Everett, the jeweler. Do you think I ought to lower my price?” she asked uncertainly. “He might come for forty thousand."

"You would be fortunate to get ten for them, milady."

"Ten thousand! But that is ludicrous. Aubrey's lawyers would settle for more than that, to avoid going to court. They spoke of giving me a fifth of the value, twenty thousand pounds. If I cannot do better than that, I shall take them back to Penworth."

Stanby was happy with the figure. He patted her hand gently. “I see you are shrewd as well as pretty. I have a broad circle of acquaintances from my business dealings in London. I might know a collector who would give you a little more than twenty. Just between ourselves, what would you take?"

"Thirty,” she said, knowing there must be some haggling but determined not to take less than the twenty-five March had stolen from her and Jonathon.

He frowned. “I doubt Lord-my friend would go that high. Let me offer him the collection for twenty-five and see what he says."

"Only a quarter of their worth? I had hoped to get more. Oh, very well. I suppose I must, as I am at my wit's end."

"Of course, I would have to see the jewels. I daresay my friend would trust me to act as his agent in the matter. We are old and true friends."

Moira felt a suffocating excitement invade her. She could hardly speak for the blood pounding in her ears. She was on the verge of success, and she must deal most cautiously or all her work was in vain. March knew her face now; there would be no second chance. The first item was to show the jewels in a poor light. In daylight, he would see they were fakes.

"You have seen one set of diamonds, and the sapphires,” she reminded him.

"It is the emeralds, however, that are most valuable, I believe. I wonder you did not wear them with that enchanting green gown last night."

"They are much too valuable to be flaunting at a public inn. But I shall wear them this evening so that you may judge them,” she said.

"Excellent. You shall dine with me, Lady Crieff, to allow me to study them a little."

She gave an insouciant smile. “Good gracious, Major, do you not trust me?” she asked. “I have admitted I do not have full legal entitlement to the collection, but I assure you the jewels are genuine. I can show you articles from the journals, if you do not believe me. They were quite horrid about it, but even the most scurrilous hack did not suggest the jewels were fakes. Why would the lawyers make such a fuss over paste jewels?"

Her naive arguments convinced Stanby that she had the goods right enough. His next ploy was to firm up a future alliance with her.

"We must keep in touch when you go to London, my dear. A lady possessing twenty-five thousand pounds will attract every gazetted fortune hunter in town. You will require a protector. I have a broad circle of acquaintances. I would be delighted to sponsor you into society."

She smiled fatuously. “Would you really, Major? I was a trifle concerned about how I should meet the right sort of people."

"I would be honored, my dear.” He took her fingers and squeezed them warmly. “You and I shall deal very well together."

"What part of town should I live in?” she asked, quelling the urge to withdraw her fingers.

For half an hour they discussed such things as living arrangements and Lady Crieff's debut into society. The major recommended a house close to his own, allegedly on Grosvenor Square. It was not of a presentation at St. James's Court or society balls that he spoke but of such low amusements as the Pantheon masquerades and Vauxhall. Moira expressed a suitable enthusiasm for them all.

"How soon do you think you can be in touch with your friend about selling the jewels?” she asked.

"I shall dash him off a note this very minute. Send it by special messenger. And you will remember you are dining with me this evening, Lady Crieff."

"I look forward to it, Major."

Moira drew a deep breath of relief as she watched him go. The tension eased out of her shoulders, leaving her limp. She felt soiled from such prolonged contact with Lionel March. And she still had to face dinner with him, knowing he was assessing a set of paste emeralds. She must distract him as much as possible. Flirtation seemed the likeliest way to do it-that, and a very low-cut gown. Worst of all, she had to carry out this disgusting charade under the eyes of Mr. Hartly. Her twenty-five thousand pounds were being hard-earned.